


Homeward Bound

by Archadian_Skies



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 06:17:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archadian_Skies/pseuds/Archadian_Skies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she's hiding in the trenches she writes pages and pages of letters to him, just to keep himself from going mad. War isn’t hell, it’s a void. </p><p>Reaper WWII AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homeward Bound

‘Come back to me’ had been his last words to her, and they had been one word too many and not quite the perfect three words she’d yearned to hear, but it had been a small victory nonetheless.

It’s all she can think about as the world crumbles around her and her life is confined to muddy trenches and battlefields strewn with corpses. War isn’t hell, it’s a void.[[MORE]]

She decides to write to him to keep her sanity, to distract her from the clacking gunfire and the thud of bombs and the thunderous planes that soar overhead. She writes so as to distract herself from her brother’s frightened gaze and the fact he’s young, too young to be out of school let alone beside her fighting for his country. She writes because she can fool herself into thinking they’ll both get out of here one day.

Grell tricks herself into thinking they’ll all get out and go back to their old lives; Eric will come home safe from the war and his daughter Charlotte will greet him and pepper his scruffy cheeks with kisses; in that delusion Alan also greets him and they live out their lives as an unholy but wholly happy family.

Ronald goes back to school and becomes that engineer he’s always wanted to be. Ronald doesn’t shake in his dreams and weep and mutter feverishly and act as though he’s big and brave and nothing happened when he’s awake.

William loves her; the heart’s desire was too ridiculous for even a delusion to contain but she believes in it anyway.

~*~

_My dearest William,_

_How are you? It’s absolutely bucketing out here. Are you nice and dry? Drink plenty of lemon and ginger tea with a spoonful of honey to keep the cold away!_

_Ah the landscape is so very bleak! Nothing but blacks and greys for as far as the eye can see- well, that is when I peek over the trenches. Even red cannot improve such surroundings, as the mud simply dirties the livid colour._

_Eric passes on his regards and our thanks to you and Alan for your diligent work._

_All my love,_

_Grell Sutcliff_

~*~

**To: Cap. G. Sutcliff,**

**I am well. Thank you for your ongoing service to our country.**

**Maj. Gen. W. T. Spears**

~*~

_My dearest William,_

_The tea can only keep the cold at bay from your health but not from your words! Oh how you wound me! Do tell me about your life, William, I do so long to hear about normal office life no matter how dull._

_Though I suppose military desk work is a tad more exciting than ordinary office work. I can’t imagine you as a desk clerk, even if that’s what you’d longed to be before we ended up in the military together._

_Ah I can still remember our final exam like it was yesterday! You were quiet and not as cold, and oh how you schooled me! Taught me right and proper that you weren’t one to mess with._

_William, darling, please tell me we can come home soon._

_Ever yours,_

_Grell Sutcliff_

~*~

**To: Cap. G. Sutcliff,**

**I am in good health. We are concentrating all our efforts on ensuring the swift return of all troops. The intelligence is sound.**

**Maj. Gen. W. T. Spears**

~*~

_My love,_

_I apologise for the long silence between us, but we’ve been on the move- though you knew that, of course, seeing as you would’ve had a hand in moving our merry band._

_There’s a little more greenery around here but most of it is swallowed up by the greys and the blacks and the bleakness that seems to follow wherever war leads._

_We’re missing half our soldiers and those that remain wish for nothing but the comfort of home. I know the air raids have been horrendous and have taken their toll on London. How many of our homes remain, I wonder?_

_A kind word, if you can spare it, will give me hope for a little longer._

_Stubbornly yours,_

_Grell Sutcliff_

~*~

**To: Cap. G. Sutcliff,**

**The war will end soon. I have a bottle of vintage red to share, and I shall share it once you are home.**

**Maj. Gen. W. T. Spears**

~*~

The killing was the easy part, despite what the others had to say. Killing required no thought; killing was a knee-jerk reaction to her and being ruthless on the battlefield was what led to her climbing the ranks. She was a good Captain; the very best in such situations, since she was merciless.

Grell didn’t bother hiding it, and made it quite clear to her soldiers that she enjoyed it. The adrenalin coursing through her veins and the loud pounding of her heart in her chest made the fight glorious.

The survival afterward was the hard part. The being left behind was what broke her. Carving open men with daggers or blasting them apart with gunfire granted her no miracles; a rising kill-count didn’t grant her the ability to bring back a fallen soldier.

Still. She pressed on; the end was nearing ever closer.

~*~

**To: Cap. G. Sutcliff,**

**We regret to inform you that you and your men are needed by the 54 th and thus cannot be brought home as of yet. They are to join your company and you are to lead them in battle against the oncoming forces. Take care.**

**Maj. Gen. W. T. Spears**

~*~

_William,_

_I want to go home now._

_Please let me come home._

~*~

Ronald would never become that engineer he’d longed to be.

Grell had carried his bullet-ridden body across the battlefield and to the medics and she knew he wouldn’t make it but she brought him back anyway.

He didn’t cry, but she did and she kissed his brow and rocked him to sleep like she had when they’d been little and the idiot died with a smile on his lips.

No one said anything to her, but she let Eric offer her his comfort as she fell to pieces.

~*~

**To: Cap. G. Sutcliff,**

**I am truly sorry for your loss. Please direct your troops to the nearest base and await further command.**

**Maj. Gen. W. T. Spears**

~*~

All that remained of her men would now answer to Eric Slingby. It didn’t sit too well with them, but Grell couldn’t care less what they thought of her decision. It was the best she could do under the situation.

He was the next highest ranking officer who wasn’t ridden with bullets and forbidden to leave the Infirmary. The war was over for everyone but her.

She sent him home. She began another letter to ease her troubles.

~*~

_My dearest William,_

_Congratulations on successfully leading us through the war; Her Majesty thanks you, and good old Churchill should offer you a cigar._

_Alas I am stuck here in this now quiet village-cum-military base until I recover. If it becomes dreadfully dull over there, do pop over and visit._

_I’d go for a good glass of red right now._

_Impatiently awaiting your arrival,_

_Grell Sutcliff_

_~*~_

**To: Cap. G. Sutcliff,**

**Thank you for your service and sacrifice for our country. Now that the war is over, there are many events to co-ordinate as Britain is rebuilt. I will apply for leave when relief efforts become sustainable.**

**Maj. Gen. W. T. Spears**

~*~

_My darling heart,_

_There’s a kindly, kooky older gent in this village who drops by every now and then. He bakes bone-shaped biscuits and tells jokes so awful they’re somehow funny. We have a good laugh together and time passes quickly with his antics._

_I do so miss you terribly. It’s been years since I’ve seen your face and heard your voice. My recovery is slow and though it’s been weeks I’m still no closer to being discharged. I’ve never been a patient woman. Do visit me before I go mad._

_Eagerly yours,_

_Grell Sutcliff_

_~*~_

**To: Cap. G. Sutcliff,**

**The relief efforts are progressing, but there is still much to be done. I will visit when I can.**

**Maj. Gen. W. T. Spears**

~*~

**To: Cap. G. Sutcliff,**

**I write to inquire about your recovery. I trust that you are doing well.**

**Maj. Gen. W. T. Spears**

~*~

**To: Cap. G. Sutcliff,**

**I have not received word from you recently, but I write to inform you that I intend to visit the weekend of the sixth. I will bring the vintage red.**

**Maj. Gen. W. T. Spears**

~*~

An entire year passed before Major General William Talbot Spears filed for leave. London was beginning to emerge from the rubble, and its people were stubbornly unbroken.

The postmark from the last letter he’d received from Grell Sutcliff indicated a town that required a night’s journey by rail to reach. He’d dutifully sent word ahead of his intention to visit, but like the previous two letters he’d received no reply.

He did, however, know full well that bases were being dismantled and injured soldiers were being relocated to recovery houses. Grell Sutcliff, an outstanding Captain, would certainly have been given the best of care.

A man with premature silver hair greeted him at the train station after his long journey, and he could see why Grell had called him kooky. The man had a grin a little too big for his face, and a voice like crumpled parchment and eyes that seemed a little glazed.

“You’re the lad here to visit Ms. Sutcliff, aren’t you? Welcome welcome!” His laugh sounded like a wheeze, and he patted William’s shoulder in a friendly manner. “Come along then, lad.”

It had been a long time since anyone had called him ‘lad’, but the man was a lot older than he and William reconciled that he’d earned the right to do so. He followed him out of the station and into an automobile and kept small talk with him until they reached his destination.

A church.

William looked at the man and saw no priest’s collar. How peculiar. Perhaps it was the local parish that had taken in the injured soldiers?

“Come along, come along!” He sang, ushering William not into, but around the church and into the churchyard. “Here we are. Look who’s here to see you, Grell!”

Fresh red roses crowned the simple wooden cross, and its plaque had been polished to a shine.

**_Grell Sutcliff  
1921 – 1946_ **

“See? I told you he’d come.”


End file.
